


A HEROES WELCOME.

by RunePhoenix6769



Series: SHATTERED [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 02:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunePhoenix6769/pseuds/RunePhoenix6769
Summary: Inspired by mada-chuain's piece of art over on Tumblr.tagged as Teen and Up due to bad language.Short ficlet. ONE SHOTSame Univers but OCCURS BEFORE     'SHATTERED'   and 'REFLECTIONS'Who is there after the gunfire has stopped and the camera's have stopped rolling.





	A HEROES WELCOME.

She’s the poster child for Overwatch, just about everyone knows her name or her face. Over the years, public opinion had slowly turned against the organisation, giving way to protests that on occasion had turned violent and eventually the PETRAS act. It had been a few years, give or take a few months since the fateful day Watchpoint Switzerland had been reduced to a crater. Since then new information had come to light about corruption and the legacy Overwatch had left behind was far from unsullied. For days headlines dominated the big screens in Piccadily Circus, now it had given way to holopad news sites on the subway, people often discussing, over coffee or on their daily commute, some new thing Overwatch had done or one of the agents had said. Others sat in pubs watching the wide screen telly, vocally passing harsh judgements and nasty comments, much like they had done when Dr Angela Zieglar, ashen faced and with black circles under her eyes from exhaustion, as the most senior living member of the team, had been forced to give evidence in a tribunal about Overwatch’s dealings, televised from The Hague. Now the ex-Overwatch agents were scattered all over the world. Some had taken strides to move forward, to attempt to rid themselves of Overwatch’s far reaching shadows. Others, such as Winston and Lena, had not been so lucky. Being the name and face of the once respected peace keeping force, had its draw backs. .

One such day, Tracer and her girlfriend, Emily are nestled in a high backed booth at the King's Head trying to have a spot of lunch and a pint. A group of drunken punters, in football jerseys were waiting for the match to start, only for a fresh news bulletin to come through, the sombre BBC news anchor and a political 'expert' are debating whether oversight of Overwatch should have happened sooner. A collective groan rings out and the group began to rowdily debate how useless or oppressive they had been. The war is over, don't you know? They are a relic of an old time, who did they think they were pontificating about right and wrong when all along they had been corrupt to the very core? 

The footage of Numbani plays over, of Tracer flickering in and out of existence.

A guy barks with laughter, not knowing that within ear shot sits Overwatch's chipper mascot.

"The silly cunt got what she deserved!"

The barman's eyes dart over to land on Emily.

"Leave it out, Trevor."

One bloke fakes a high pitched girly scream, whilst another attempts a roar beating his chest like King Kong. 

"I bet you, she fucks the gorilla."

"That's enough!" The barman shouts, his eyes once more flickering in Emily's direction. "I wont have that sort of talk in here. It's a family establishment."

Tracer’s knife and fork hovers in mid-air at their cruel words, they don't know or maybe they just don't care that good agents risked their lives for the peace they take for granted and that some of those agents didn’t return. And as her cutlery hovers, her face falters a little. Emily reaches out, with a soft hand on Lena's trembling one. 

“Dont listen to them.”

Tracer flashes a weak smile, nodding, 

“I know, I shouldn’t." Carefully placing her knife and fork on her makeshift napkin, she slides out of the booth. "...... I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

In the bathroom, she splashes water on her face and tries to dab it dry with a paper towel, her gaze lands on newspaper and magazine cut outs, stuck to the wall, of her and her team mates with lewd comments attached, or defaced with devils horns, eyeballs scratched out and bulls-eyes over their foreheads. 

“Whore!” ‘Death to Ow!’

It takes all her strength not to cry on her way back to the booth. She tells Emily about the graffiti, who tries to make her laugh by showing her one she found on the subway of a flying overlord Mercy, with ridiculously large knockers, shooting lasers out of her eyes, incinerating teeny tiny stick figures who were gripped in chaotic panic. 

“I’m going to send it to her.”

Lena giggles, 

“You would never!”

“I’mma gonna do it.” Emily playfully threatens.. Pressing the button, she proudly grins. “Sent!”

Slipping the phone in her pocket, they prepare to leave. Emily goes to pay the check and the group of punters are still griping about Overwatch except this time their conversation has taken on a blue hue, discussing loudly who they would and wouldn't fuck. As Emily accepts her change from the server, she sees Lena waiting by the side door, cheeks aflame, her head hunkered down into her shoulders like a turtle in an attempt to make her already tinyself as small as possible.

This woman, who was sweet and kind and goofy, this woman who didn’t think twice about throwing on her jacket and guns the first second she heard on the police band radio that people might be in trouble. Who wouldn’t think for a second not to blink through a burning building. Who wilfully stopped muggers on the street and believed that there was good inside people, even if it needed a little coaxing. This woman couldn’t sit down in the home city she had saved on numerous occasions, to a nice plate of fish and chips in peace?

Collecting her change, she walked past the punters only to hear one of them loudly exclaim, 

“I’d bend that Tracer over, and I’d Slipstream something into her.” The rest of the group broke into gales of laughter as he gestured with a thrust of his hips

Incensed, Emily whirled round, only for Lena to grab and gently tug her sleeve, 

“It’s alright, Em....”

“But, Lena.. It’s not.”

“Leave it off... No point making a fuss. Just a bunch of lads having a laugh. No harm done, eh?” Once again she flashed that altogether too bright and brittle smile..”It’s part of the job, innit? Being famous an all that!” She gave a toss of her head in an attempt to dislodge a lock of hair out of her face.” I’m used to it.”

At that, something inside Emily broke. 

“Lets go home.”

As they stepped out onto the overcast streets of London, she slipped her arm through Lena’s in a bid to get closer and glean some of her warmth. Maybe it was the chronal accelerator or maybe it was just Lena, but she somehow always seemed toasty, and Emily was often left wondering how the ex-pilot could run about in leggings and a blue zip up hoodie. Lena walked with her hands shoved in her pockets, and her head bowed in her blue hood. As they meandered down the street, Emily’s phone pinged. Fishing it out of her pocket, she quickly swiped right, reading the message she giggled, bringing Lena out of her morose mood,

“What?”

“It’s Angela.”

Lena’s eyes lit up slightly,

“Lemme have a look.”

It was a photo of a disapproving Angela, a goofy Fareeha, bent double, laughing in the background with the caption.

‘I know at least 6 ways to kill a man, undetected. They won’t find your body for days.’

As if sent by vengeful gods, the heavens burst, huge globular raindrops battering the pavement, the sort that if one hit you it would drench you to your skin. With a squeal, the two girls dashed to a nearby doorway, taking refuge in the wide awning of what used to be a bank. A small girl clutching her mother’s hand, blinked and gasped. Her eyes going wide at the sight of Tracer. 

“Mummy!” The little girl excitedly tugged on her mother’s hand. “Mummy, look!”

The mother distractedly engrossed in her phone, replied,

“What is it darling?” 

“Mummy, look it’s Tracer!”

“Dont be silly dear”

“It is!” The little girl pulled a little harder.

The mother looking up from her phone, glanced at Emily and Lena before doing a double take.

“Cheers love,” Tracer saluted cheerfully, “The cavalry’s here.”

The little girl squealed in delight, vibrating, like she had her own mini chronal accelerator. Lena crouched down so they could both be eye height,

“What’s you name?”

“Poppy.”

“That’s a really pretty name. And what do you want to be when you grow up.”

“Just like you.” She grinned a gap toothed smile. “Mummy can we have a picture?” 

“No, dont bother the lady.”

Looking up from her crouched position, Lena smiled,

“It’s no trouble at all.”

Pulling her daughter a little closer, the mother tersely replied,

“I’d rather not.” 

“But Mummy!” Came the high pitched, upset whine.

Lena turned her attention back to the little girl. Straightening her lapels, she said in mock seriousness, 

“Dont ever forget, the world could always use more heroes.”

She winked.

The little girl puffed out her little chest, nodding, attempting a little salute of her own.

“Come along Poppy.”

“But Mummy!” The little girl began to protest.

“Be a good girl, Poppy," Lena encouraged in her bright cockney accent, "And listen to your Mum, kay!”

The mother began down the street while the small girl reluctantly followed, waving goodbye enthusiastically to Lena, who returned the gesture. She remained crouched down, in the darkening early winter evening, on the grey busy streets of London, head bowed. Emily reached out a hand to rub her back, when Lena whipped round in a flurry,clinging to Emily for dear life, body racking with sobs. Wrapping her arms around her, she pulled Lena in close as she could, rubbing soothing patterns on her back.

“Oh Lena.” she sadly murmured.

She held her, in that doorway, in a city that wouldn’t be standing if not for Overwatch’s intervention.

“I’m sorry, Em.” Lena pulled back wiping furiously at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, “It’s just....”

Emily held her close, one hand stroking Lena’s cheek, 

“Shush, it’s ok. I know. I know.”

“It’s just...” Lena started, before trailing off. “I...”

Emily took in the crestfallen look, her red rimmed, big brown eyes. Lena sucked in a sniff. Emily pressed a gentle, chaste kiss against her lips. 

“It’s ok.”

She pulled her back into a hug, one hand cradling the back of Lena’s head as she sank back into her, hiding her face in the crook of Emily’s neck and green scarf. She held her, in that city bustling with people who had no idea of the sacrifice the woman in her arms had given so freely and with little expectation of anything in return. The two of them in their own personal bubble as the oblivious and often callous world continued around them.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are enjoying this fic, feel free to show your support and buy me a kofi at the address below.
> 
> http://ko-fi.com/formerlyrunephoenix6769
> 
> Keep my kitten Nym in caffeine! :)


End file.
